


A Fork in the Road

by PussNHikingBoots



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crying, Kissing, M/M, Some other stuff may or may not happen, That's it, but mostly kissing and crying, those are the tags: kissing and crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:16:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PussNHikingBoots/pseuds/PussNHikingBoots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sweet little Hannigram. A little bit of kissing and a whole lot of tears.<br/>Takes place somewhere around the Randall Tier episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fork in the Road

**Author's Note:**

> I do not use beta, so please send any errors/corrections you may find to: pussnhikingboots@gmail.com

Will's hands gripped the steering wheel, whitening his knuckles. His jaw was set in a determined clench and his eyes stared ahead at the road as he sped forward through the murky light of 5 AM. After examining the last crime scene, he'd spent much of the night awake, reliving the details his gift of empathy had shown him. In his mind, he saw the killer's face and he knew who it was. There wasn't enough actual evidence for Jack to pick the guy up, but Will knew. He was in his car now on his way to the man's house, determined to kill him himself. Without evidence, the law would not touch him. Probably not until another innocent woman had been murdered. A part of Will knew it was irrational to go after this man, but he had been exposed to so much death, the lines were blurring for him. He was no longer clearly able to differentiate between right and wrong, at least not what he used to believe was right and wrong. Hannibal had made sure of that.

Hannibal. Will's thoughts turned abruptly to his destructive psychiatrist, and with them, turned the car as well. He veered off at a right-hand fork away from the home of the killer he sought, and instead made his way towards another killer – towards Hannibal's house. He did not want to be put in prison again. Not for a vigilante murder that he would have a difficult time justifying. Nobody had listened to him then when he was innocent; who would listen now if he was guilty?

He pulled up to Hannibal's with a screech, stumbled out of the car and banged on the door. If there was ever a time that he needed therapy, it was now. He needed Hannibal to stop him from his murderous thoughts, though he suspected Hannibal would be more than pleased with those thoughts; probably encourage them. Still, he needed asylum, he needed somebody to talk to who would understand. Somebody who would not judge him for his dark desires. 

It took a few minutes for Hannibal to reach the door, as he had still been in bed asleep. He wore a silk robe, hastily pulled around him, bare chest peeking out from beneath, and silk pajama bottoms. He ushered Will in without a word. Hannibal went to the kitchen and got a glass of water for each of them, then climbed back up the stairs, allowing Will to follow. "Sorry, Will. I was still sleeping when you knocked. You can tell me everything, but I'd like to lay down while I listen." They made their way to the master bedroom where Hannibal shed his robe, climbed back into bed, and lay his head against the pillow. He gestured for Will to sit at the edge of the bed, but Will didn't want to sit. 

"Tell me, Will," Hannibal said sleepily, "what brings you to my door at this hour?"

"I was on my way to kill somebody."

"Were you on your way to kill me?" asked Hannibal calmly.

"No," said Will, "It was a suspect from the last crime scene." He began talking in fractured detail; about the previous evening's work, his reaction to it, his dreams, his conversation with Jack. He frenetically paced the room, his hands gesturing as he spoke. "I know who it is, and it's not that Jack doesn't believe me, but it – there's simply not enough evidence. But I know it's him. I know he's going to do it again." Finally, alleviated of his story, Will took a seat on the bed, looking down at his shoes. "I want to kill him," Will said with conviction.

A slow smile was spreading over Hannibal's face, but he kept it in check. He propped himself up to lean in closer to Will. "So you were on your way to kill this man, but you chose to come to me instead."

Will nodded, still looking at his shoes.

“Do you want me to talk you out of it? Do you want me to stop you from killing this man?" asked Hannibal. Will nodded his head rapidly. It felt like he could not stop nodding. He looked up at Hannibal. "I – I know I shouldn't do it, but I want to so badly. Coming here was...a thought pattern interruption." Hannibal could see that Will was shaking. He was disturbed by his own mind and the action he almost took. Hannibal placed a hand on Will's shoulder. "Why did you come to me and not Jack?"

"You're my psychiatrist."

"Is that the only reason?"

"No," said Will. "Jack would not understand – it would scare him. Anger him. I came here because I knew you would understand."

"I do understand, Will," said Hannibal, his hand leaving Will's shoulder to stroke at Will's hair. Hannibal looked into his face. "I'm sorry that you are unable to carry out your desires to kill this man, but you did the right thing. If you had carried through with this line of action, you would be back in prison for a very long time. And I don't ever want to see you back there."

Will's face was turned to look at Hannibal while he spoke to him, holding the eye contact that had once been so difficult. He still trembled, but just barely. "I don't enjoy this feeling. I feel – wrong. I feel like two people. Sometimes I have visions about…murdering." He forced the word out, feeling ashamed, but knowing that Hannibal was feeling pride, not shame. "I don't want to feel it, but I do. I don't want to act on it. It was all I could do to turn off that road and come here." Will was pleading with his eyes, hoping Hannibal can somehow help him. Somehow take away this torture.

Hannibal's hand continued to caress Will's curls, brushing the hair from his temples and following the curve around the back of his ear. His other hand grasped Will's far shoulder and rotated him to fully face him. He ran the back of his index finger along the outer ridge of Will's ear. "Killing is one of the primal pleasures in man's life," he said. "Modern man has tried to deny this natural instinct, but that does not mean that it does not still exist. Killing is a pleasure that one cannot always indulge in with immunity." Hannibal was looking into Will's watery gray eyes. "There are other pleasures to indulge oneself in," he said, moving his thumb down to pass over Will's slightly parted lips. Will dropped his eyes to watch the thumb as it traced back and forth slowly, softly. His heart was racing. "There are other pleasures that can be shared. They may not be as passionate as killing, but still passionate."

Will knew that he had only to give himself permission, that Hannibal was waiting for it. Hannibal had been waiting for it, waiting for him, for a long time now. Will wrestled between the whirling thoughts in his head, and the fluttering in his body. Hannibal waited patiently, silent, caressing Will's lips and holding his gaze with his own.

Finally, Will let his eyes partially close, and leaned very slightly in towards Hannibal, tilting his head up. Hannibal met him half way, his lips making contact with Will's lips for the first time since they'd met. The kiss landed soft and gentle, then Hannibal pulled away just enough to let Will process this new information. Will's hands hung at his sides, palms upward as if they'd just dropped there and he didn't know how to arrange them. He pressed into Hannibal's lips again, more sure of himself.  


They kissed with increasing intensity and passion, becoming all lips and tongues and breathe, eyes closed. Something was unlocking inside of Will. Tears started to trickle from his eyes, slowly at first and then with increasing volume. Hannibal didn't notice until Will's breathe started to hitch and he began to sob audibly against Hannibal's mouth. His face became a torrent of tears and he could not stop himself sobbing in great heaving gasps. His whole body wracked with it, and Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will. He leaned back against the pillow, pulling Will down with him. Will laid his head against Hannibal's chest and sobbed and sobbed. Hannibal held him tightly and stroked his hair and let him cry long into the brightening morning.


End file.
